Saint Jude: Los Angeles Bad Boys (15 page)

I
wake to screaming
. A woman screaming.

Specifically, Rachel screaming.

I’ve only met her in passing.

And damn, right now, I wish she would just keep passing through. Because seriously, this is awkward as fuck.

“Really? You’re fucking a new girl?” she yells, as Jude and I scramble to put on yesterday’s clothing.

But I’m not ashamed. Not one tiny bit. I can’t think of when I’ve ever slept all night, under the stars, naked, in my lover’s arms.

I loved last night.

But I don’t love Rachel right now.

“Don’t start with me,” Jude says, shaking his head as he tugs on his pair of jeans. “Seriously, Rachel. You’ve been sleeping with other people since the day we met.”

“Oh, fine.” She relents more easily than I expected, swatting at the air. “But seriously, this is not cool. To see you fucking some girl at seven AM.”

“She’s not some girl. This is Catalina. She’s my girlfriend. And we weren’t even fucking.”

“Wow. One month away and you already found someone new.”

Her eyes rake over me and I make an effort to swallow my insecurity. Rachel is drop-dead gorgeous, model thin—because, hell, she’s a model—tall as fuck, with piercing eyes.

“Don’t start, Rachel,” Jude tells her. “After yesterday, I have no room for your judgment.”

The way he speaks, so controlled, so utterly as a man, I feel my core tighten, remembering the way he touches me, loves me. Remembering that he and I … we’re a thing.

Maybe more than a thing.

Did he say the word
marriage
last night?

It may have just been in passing, in the heat of the moment, but the word rolls around in my head as I follow Jude and Rachel into the house.

Jude heads to the coffee pot and starts adding fresh grounds to the filter. My eyes blink open, as I was awoken so suddenly. This is not how I expected this day to go.

“Where’s Etta?” Rachel asks. She drops her purse on the kitchen island as if this is her house.

And with an uncomfortable realization, I remember that, not so long ago, it
was
. She and Jude were together a long time.

“Etta was at Evangeline and Cassius’s house for the night. We needed a night off.”

I expect Rachel to have a lot of opinions about this choice but, surprisingly, she doesn’t press. She just nods in understanding. Once again, I realize how much has passed between Jude and Rachel, how much I don’t understand.

Of course they have a long history. They have a daughter together. No matter what happens between Jude and me, Rachel will always be a part of this family history.

“Well, I came back to ask if you could go with me to my lawyer’s office later today. I need you to sign some papers, and I don’t want to wait on it.”

Jude’s back is toward us as he pours water into the coffee pot. I see all the muscles in his back tighten as he absorbs Rachel’s request, and I’m amazed at his ability to remain so in command of himself, when I know how much Etta means to him. His restraint is a sign of strength.

Lashing out would be a sign of weakness, and him not yelling at Rachel and cussing her out doesn’t mean that he doesn’t want Etta. It means that he’s not going to drag Rachel down.

Jude’s not that sort of man, a man who needs to make people small in order to make himself feel big.

Damn, I love him. I love him. And his back, with those muscles tensing—it makes me want to reach out and ease every strain. Makes me want to run my hands up and down his spine, over his shoulder blades, over his shoulders, and work out all of the pain and tension that he’s carrying. All the tension that was brought upon him the moment Rachel showed up.

He doesn’t speak, and Rachel seems to think she needs to fill the silence.

“Jude, I know I could have texted before I came, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to make things so cold and so … uncomfortable.”

Jude turns around. “This is pretty damn uncomfortable. Wouldn’t you say?”

Rachel stands. I notice she’s in last night’s clothes too, or else she’s just in really dirty ones now. Her tee-shirt is stretched out; her ripped jeans have a ketchup stain on the knee. Her hair is in a messy ponytail and her eyes are red and tired, even though she didn’t have a baby keeping her up all night.

I don’t understand her at all. How could anyone walk away from Jude?

“Look,” Rachel says. “I know I haven’t been fair to you, at all. I haven’t been fair to Etta, either. That’s what I wanted to tell you yesterday. But I’m trying to get my shit together. That’s why I want to go the lawyer’s together.”

“Fine, Rachel.” Jude’s jaw is so tense he could crack a fucking walnut with it. And besides that, I know he is on the verge of tears. Rachel seems to have no idea what she’s doing to him.

“This is the address. The appointment is at one. And could you bring Etta?” she asks, placing a business card on the kitchen island.

“Whatever you want, right?”

“Right, Jude, whatever I want.” The lilt in her voice unnerves me. I watch her walk to the door with so much resolve I’m convinced she doesn’t want to leave. As if every single step she takes is made with intention … like all it would take is one slip, and she’d fall back in Jude’s arms.

But I know Jude. I know that he loves me. And I know there’s not a choice to be made here—but if there were, I know I’m his.

Rachel leaves, and Jude and I drink our coffee in silence, because what do you even say? How do you prepare your heart for the most tragic good-bye of your life?

When Evangeline and Cassius bring back Etta, Evie insists on giving me a hug, squeezing my shoulders tight and apologizing once again for being a total bitch.

Of course I forgive her, brush her off. This is Jude’s cousin, and all the things that she said to him, said about me, she was saying out of love. And if I know anything, I know this: love is fucking hard, and love can break your heart … but love is all we have.

Jude tells Cash and Evie about what happened this morning with Rachel. About going to the lawyer’s later. Everyone is in tears, looking at Etta crawling around on the floor. This is her home. How can she leave it?

Evangeline is sure we need to get an attorney involved. She talks about calling her dad’s lawyer, about bringing in the big guns. But after her spiel, we all kind of stand in a collective silence. Because the truth remains that Jude has no claim over Etta’s life. One blood test will prove that. One blood test will change everything.

After they leave, Jude calls his mom and she comes right over. Through tears Jude explains the situation, and his mom cries, squeezing him in a tight hug, giving Etta a bottle even though she doesn’t need one.

Etta made her a grandmother. And now she’s going to say good-bye to her only granddaughter. A granddaughter that was never hers.

Jude tries to make promises, but everyone knows they’re for naught. We have no idea what Rachel is going to roll out today at the lawyer’s. We’re preparing ourselves for the worst.

And then Holden and Bexley stop by to let Jude know how they’re here for him and support him, giving me side-long glances the whole time. It’s like they realize that yes, Jude and I, with our laced fingers and eyes on Etta, are in this together. One hundred percent.

Then the only people left in the room are Jude and Etta and me.

“I don’t know how I’m going to go to this meeting,” Jude says as he puts a pair of moccasins on Etta’s feet. “Rachel is going to … what? Pack up all of Etta’s things and deliver them to her undisclosed apartment complex? My daughter is just going to move into some rented room off Craigslist? I have no rights. I have … nothing. Catalina, if I didn’t have you right now, I don’t know what I would do.”

Crying again, I want to scoop all his tears up and put them in a bottle and place it on the shelf so that we can always remember this moment. Not for the sorrow, but because of the love. These tears are born of love. That makes them precious—as is every second we have right now with Etta.

“I’ll be here waiting for you when you get back.” I squeeze Jude’s hands. “And we will face whatever comes next together. I know those aren’t the words you want to hear, and they aren’t the words I want to say—but Jude, right now all you need to focus on is Etta.”

“You should come,” Jude says, picking Etta from the floor and kissing her cheeks. “Come and be moral support.”

“Jude, I don’t think being there is the right thing. I want to be there. But I think this is about you and Etta and Rachel.”

“I think you’re right,” Jude agrees. “But I want to hold your hand the whole time she’s forcing me to sign papers and telling me to go.”

“You don’t need my hands, Jude. You already have my heart.”

I give Etta the warmest hug I could’ve ever bestowed upon another human being. I drink in her baby-powdery smell, her lavender lotion and clary-sage shampoo. I smooth down her dark hair and kiss her cheeks.

I memorize her completely.

I memorize her forever.

I don’t know what will come next, but for this baby girl, I hope for the best.

A
rriving
at the lawyer’s office, I shake as I unbuckle Etta from the car seat. I throw the diaper bag over my shoulder and scoop Etta up in my arms, wanting her to stay there forever.

I don’t know what I should expect when I walk through those doors. I feel like Etta coming into my life was a gift I didn’t deserve, a gift that changed me.

But a gift I am not ready to lose.

I’ve always felt responsible for Nolan’s death, even though I put more weight on my thirteen-year-old self than I ever deserved. I understand that in theory, but in practice it’s a hell of a lot more complicated.

Because it turns out it’s hella hard to forgive yourself for the things you have no control over.

If only I had done things differently.

If only I had reacted stronger, better, more.

If only I were a different sort of person.

If I’d never left Nolan that morning on the beach, never gone back to the house to grab fucking shovels and sand buckets, he never would have stepped into the ocean and been swept away.

Likewise, had I never embraced Rachel, let her into my life, even though I knew there were a thousand reasons why she was bad news, I would never have met Etta.

And Etta has been a salve for my wounded soul—for this tortured motherfucker, who needed a way to let go of some of the shit weighing me down.

Etta was that for me.

I thought she was my forever. Even though ever since I knew about her existence and Rachel’s uterus, I knew she wouldn’t be. I wanted it, though. So fucking bad.

Etta claps her hands, unaware of the severity of this meeting. I adjust her weight on my hip. Her eyes are so bright, her small teeth glistening with drool. She is perfection.

And now I’m going to walk into this office and offer her to a woman who doesn’t know her favorite food, or the way she likes to drink her bottle, or the way she likes to fall asleep at night. I’m going to hand her over to a woman who knows nothing about her, but who has more claim to her than I do.

In the office, the receptionist tells me to wait. She goes and tells a clerk that I’m here. Soon enough, Etta and I are walking down the hall toward a lawyer’s office. The name Ed Schultz is on the door, and we’re let into his office.

Rachel’s here. She looks much better than she did this morning. She’s showered, and her clothes are clean, but she looks tired.

Her eyes brighten, matching Etta’s, as we walk through the door. She doesn’t reach for her daughter, and that makes me angry. If she’s going to take Etta from me, I want her to do it with a heart so full, so excited—with a heart that can’t contain its own joy.

Instead, her hands are clasped and she sits in a leather-back chair. Her eyes dart away as quickly as they meet mine. She wears resignation on her face.

Etta deserves more than that. More than this.

I know I have to say something. And I will. But before I do, Mr. Schultz begins to speak.

He shakes my hand, smiles genially at me, pats Etta on the head. He seems like a nice man, in his rumpled suit and tortoiseshell frames. He isn’t a threat; he’s not some big-shot lawyer who’s ready to play hardball.

“It’s so good to meet you,” he says. “I’m Ed, and you must be Jude. And this little darling must be Etta.”

“Yes, this is Etta. Good to meet you too—though, to be honest, I’m not all that pleased to be here today.”

“Sorry to hear that, Jude, but I’m glad you’re able to make it fit into your schedule. Rachel and I have been in touch for the last month, but it wasn’t until last night, when she contacted me again, that she had made her decision about how she wanted to proceed.”

“Oh, yeah?” I ask, on the edge of every single emotion.

“Yes. And had last night been the first time I heard about her plans, of course I would have encouraged her to pause before making such a drastic decision. But she’s sober, in sound mind, and is making this decision with a clear conscience.”

Mr. Schultz sits, and indicates for me to sit as well. I’m fucking furious at the moment. I want to pace the room.

I want to get the hell out of here.

With Etta.

Still, I sit, wanting this to stay civilized for Etta’s sake.

“Oh, yeah? So Rachel told you everything about us? How does this work exactly? You just take the baby that I love?”

Ed narrows his eyes, confusion written on his face.

But I keep going.

“Rachel, you know I love Etta. I love her more than the air I breathe. Are you seriously going to tear her from me? From my arms? For what? You know I care about you, want the best for you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. But I don’t think this is the best thing for Etta. And I don’t understand why you would be okay with this. Why would you want to break her heart, too?”

“Too?” Rachel asks. “Who else has a broken heart?”

“Me.” I run my hand over my jaw. “I’m the one with a broken heart.”

“Jude,” she starts, softly. Now that I’m sitting across from her, I see the tears in her eyes, the pain etched on her face.

She’s not tired, she’s emotionally exhausted. But she also has a look of serenity. A look of absolution. A look of no going back.

“I think you’re wrong about who has a broken heart. You don’t. Or at least, you don’t need to.”

“Losing Etta will destroy me.”

“I know,” Rachel says. “I know it would destroy you.”

“Would?”

“Would. Jude, you’re wrong about why I called you here. I wanted you and Etta both here. So we could share good-byes.”

“Yeah,” I say, scoffing at her word choice, “I got that. I got that part. I got that you called me here to tell my daughter good-bye. I get that you called me here to end the life I wanted. I get that, Rachel.”

“No Jude, you’re not saying good-bye to Etta. And Etta is not saying good-bye to you. I’m saying good-bye to both of you.” She’s crying now, wiping tears from her eyes, and I see for a moment the way Etta will look when shes twenty-five years old.

She’ll be a mirror of this fragile, beautiful, woman. Rachel’s wearing her emotions on her face, and she’s doing the hardest thing she’ll ever do in her entire life.

“You’ve always been right for Etta,” Rachel says. “I think I latched onto you so hard when I found out I was pregnant because I knew you’d be the sort of father I would want for my daughter. But I was fooling myself, fooling you, to ever think I was the right mother for her.”

I start to move, make her stop her words, because I don’t want Rachel to ever think she’s not good enough. She brushes me off, and keeps talking.

“This isn’t a way for me to have a pity-party, or to beg for something that I don’t have. I’m choosing this for me and Etta and you. I should have done it a long time ago, the day she was born, but I was selfish and scared. I’m not scared anymore. I’ve been gone a month, and the truth is, I’ve known that for every second of it for Etta has been with her family. You, Jude, are Etta’s family. It isn’t me. Maybe I brought her into this world in some crazy messed-up way. Maybe she came to life after growing in my womb, but she isn’t mine. I don’t think she ever was. She’s yours.”

Rachel reaches for papers on Mr. Schultz’s desk.

“These are the papers we need to file. It’s the termination of parental rights. I’m relinquishing my rights, for Etta. I don’t want to stay in LA. I don’t know what I want. I just know that I don’t want this life.”

“Rachel, can you really do this?”

“I can. I am. You are already her legal father, on her birth certificate. And nothing I’m doing is going to change that. Now you’re her sole guardian, and I’ll have no more claim to her for the rest of her life. If you ever marry again, you can certainly have your wife legally adopt her, but for now you’re her parent. And Etta is the luckiest girl in the world for that.”

For years, I’ve wondered if I was being punished for what happened to Nolan on the beach. For years, I’ve been trying to save other people as a way to forgive myself. But now I’m being given the most selfless, loving gift in the entire world.

I’m scared I’ll fuck it up. But I want it so badly.

I squeeze Etta tighter in my arms. She’s small enough that she doesn’t understand a single thing that’s happening.

This momentous occasion in her life. The moment I will never forget for as long as I live. The moment Rachel gave me. The moment Rachel gave us all.

“Do you want to sign the documents?” Mr. Schultz says.

I hand Etta to Rachel, knowing that they have good-byes to share, and begin reviewing the papers. It’s all straightforward, and Rachel has already signed her pieces.

After I sign my name, and Rachel kisses Etta’s cheeks again and again, squeezing her tight, I shake Mr. Schultz’s hand. Rachel, Etta, and I walk outside.

In the sunny afternoon, Etta squeals and begins pointing at nonsense, delighting in her world.

“I love you, Jude. I love you, Etta.” Rachel smiles. She looks around, as if not knowing where to go from here. Despite that, she doesn’t look lost. She looks relieved.

“How does this work, then? Do you want me to call you?” I ask. “Do you want me to send you updates? Are—”

“Jude, now you can just let me go. You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I’m not your responsibility. Etta is. I’m a grown-up. Or, at least, trying to figure out how to become one.” She leans over and gives me a hug, gives Etta another kiss on her forehead … and then she walks away.

…

W
hen I pull
up to my house, I can’t smile yet. There’s too much heartbreak wrapped up in what just happened to smile or celebrate.

Catalina opens my front door, leans in the doorway, watches me get out of my car. I know she can’t see Etta buckled in the back, and she watches me nervously, as if not knowing how I’m going to be, in the swell of losing Etta.

When I open the back door of the car, Catalina calls out. “Etta’s here?” She runs to me, the car.

“She’s here.”

“You didn’t see Rachel? You ditched the meeting altogether?”

“I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t consider that. But no, Catalina. I went.”

“And you came back.”

“I did. I came back with Etta. I came back with my daughter.”

Catalina shakes her head, not understanding why I’m not a sobbing, heaping mess. Why I’m suddenly standing in front of a beautiful woman, holding a beautiful baby, and not falling apart. She doesn’t understand that I wasn’t the person who walked away empty-handed today.

“Rachel relinquished her parental rights. I’m Etta’s only parent. I’m … her father.”

Catalina gasps, flinging her arms around me, kissing Etta’s cheeks over and over again and then kissing my mouth. She’s holding me tight and I’m holding her tight, and somehow all the brokenness that I held at the lawyer’s office isn’t the only thing I hold.

I don’t only hold Etta, a baby without a mother. I hold Etta, my daughter with a family.

We walk inside. There’s so much to explain to Catalina, but also nothing to say, because somehow Catalina seems to understand. Seems to understand me.

We walk through my front door, and I turn to Catalina. I ask, “When are you moving in?”

“Oh, Jude, I never plan on leaving.”

We smile at the perfect simplicity of her words. Of our choices.

“I love you, Catalina.”

“And I love you.”

She takes Etta from my arms, carrying her into the living room, where she sits down on the floor with my little girl and begins tickling her tummy until she rolls in laughter.

I watch them, wondering how I got so goddamn lucky.

Wondering how I got it all.